Untitled
by heraldtalia
Summary: My first fanfic ever, so please be gentle. Jack once loved Bootstrap, and has now met Will. BE WARNED--this story is slashy! Jack is somewhat OOC and the story is AU. Thanks so much to all my wonderful reviewers! Sorry I always take forever to update
1. Default Chapter

Captain Jack Sparrow had never really thought of anyone as being truly beautiful before. Sure, there were a lot of pretty ladies to be found in the Caribbean, and he had lain with many of them-but none of them were pretty enough to be called "beautiful". Jack had never expected to find anyone deserving of that label. He certainly did not expect the person who deserved that label to be another man.  
  
But "beautiful" was the only word that could adequately describe Bill Turner, the newest crewmember to board the Black Pearl. No, beautiful was not even good enough, but maybe there was no word in the English language that could quite do justice to Bill's big brown eyes, so full of soul and emotion, that soft pale skin, or that silky brown hair.  
  
That Jack was thinking such things about a man came as more than a bit of a shock to the captain, who had always fancied women. Jack had certainly heard of such things, had even suspected some members of his crew of engaging in illicit acts, but he could not understand why a man with no breasts to speak of had so captured his mind.  
  
Still, although Jack could not deny that he felt such surprising things, he was not entirely comfortable with the feeling. Besides, it was not proper for him to act on such feelings with a member of his crew-not that Jack cared much about what was proper outside of The Code in any other situation. So, Jack pushed those feelings down, even going so far as to avoid Bill Turner whenever he could, and going out of his way to bed even more wenches than he was already used to bedding.  
  
It took Bill coming to see him alone in his quarters, and large quantities of rum, to get the Captain to admit what he was feeling.  
  
Jack could remember that night with surprising clarity, given the fact that by daybreak he was falling-down drunk. Turner's eyes had looked even larger than usual by the firelight of his cabin, and even though his drunken haze, Jack found himself wondering how so gentle a person had decided that becoming a scallywag was a good idea. "Bill," he said, his words slurred from the rum. "What are you doing here?"  
  
"Sir?" Bill asked, blinking his alcohol-clouded eyes.  
  
"Whatever possessed you to become a pirate?"  
  
Bill was silent for long moments, so long that Jack was starting to think that maybe the boy had fainted. "My son," Bill said finally, so softly that Jack could barely hear him speak.  
  
"You have a son?"  
  
Bill's eyes seemed to be looking far away. "Yes. My wife gave birth to him 4 years ago. I left when he was only a babe. He probably does not remember me."  
  
Wife? Jack didn't much like the thought of that, though he still wasn't drunk enough to explore why the thought bothered him. So instead, he asked the obvious question. "And you decided being a pirate would be better for your son?"  
  
"I know it sounds foolish," Bill said. "But, I wanted him to have everything, even if he was not born a gentleman. I tried to be a merchant sailor, but they paid me so little... It could not compare with pirate treasure."  
  
"And yet you never see him."  
  
Bill stared sadly into the fire. "Yes. My son is a stranger to me, and has a criminal for a father."  
  
Almost before he knew what he was doing, Jack found himself touching Bill's face, turning his crewman's head gently so he could stare into those sad brown eyes. "That's the most noble reason for becoming a pirate I've ever heard. Me, I'm just in it for freedom and swag. Your heart was in the right place, Bill."   
  
The smile that lit up Bill's eyes made Jack's heart constrict painfully. "Thank you, Sir."  
  
"When we're in private, just call me Jack, Bill."  
  
Bill's smile grew impossibly wide. "Then when we're in private, you must call me William."  
  
"Very well...William," Jack said, his voice husky. Before he realized what he was doing, Jack leaned in and pressed his lips to Turner's in a gentle kiss. As if that were not shocking enough, rather than pull away, William leaned into the kiss, wrapping his arms around his captain's chest, almost seeming to cling onto him. Jack wrapped his arms tightly around the younger pirate in return, drawing William down in a tight embrace next to the fire.   
  
"You are so beautiful, William," Jack said, twining his fingers in Turner's hair. It was amazing how soft and silky the hair felt, considering that most pirates in Jack's acquaintance seemed to be covered in perpetual filth.  
  
"As are you, Sir."  
  
"Jack. Right now, I'm just Jack to you."  
  
Turner smiled. "Yes...Jack. That will take some getting used to."  
  
"So, do you really find me beautiful, William?" Jack asked playfully.  
  
William stared directly into his captain's eyes. "Yes, Sir. I always have."  
  
The captain slid his hands under his crewman's tunic, and when Turner did not pull away, Jack ran his hands along the smooth skin, over William's back and up his chest. William returned the caresses, timidly at first, but with more enthusiasm as their kisses continued and they swallowed more rum. It was William who first pushed his tongue into Jack's mouth, though Jack surely did not mind. The captain's own tongue pushed into William's mouth in return, and he explored it hungrily. None of the many kisses Jack had experienced in his lifetime of wenching could compare with the passion he felt kissing William Turner, a man and a crewman besides. Jack's whole body seemed to ache with need. His hands wandered from William's hair down to his chest, sliding off first the vest, then the tunic, leaving Turner naked from the waist up. Jack had always thought a woman's breasts were her best feature, so he was surprised to find William's smooth, flat chest to be just as appealing. William sat on his knees, gazing at him with those soulful eyes, and Jack had to get the young pirate in his arms again, had to touch that skin. Jack was no stranger to lust, but this was different. The lust was there, but there was something more as well-something deeper. William removed Jack's vest and tunic as well, and they twined themselves together again, holding each other tight, exploring each other's bodies with their lips and fingers until the rum and the hour finally took hold and they drifted off to sleep.  
  
That was as far as it ever got-caresses and kisses. Jack awoke the next morning to find the younger man still wrapped in his arms, both of them fully clothed except for their tunics and vests. He lay mesmerized by the beauty of the sleeping man in his arms until William woke up. For a few moments, the two gazed silently into each other's eyes with unspoken longing, until William, blushing heavily, pulled away, mumbling apologies. Jack watched as Turner hurried out of the cabin. There were so many things he wanted to say, but no words would come to his lips. They never spoke of that night again.  
  
And then, the mutiny came. Barbossa, a man who should have guarded Jack's life with his own, convinced the crew to turn on him. As he walked the plant at the point of Barbossa's sword, with nothing more than a pistol with a single shot and the clothes on his back to call his own, Jack saw Turner, standing farther back from the rest. The other members of the crew were cheering, but William stood alone and silent. William's eyes met Jack's, and for a moment, they locked. It felt to Jack as though his very soul were being sucked into Turner's eyes in that moment, and the feelings that he had been repressing washed over him. Turner, his own eyes filled with anguish, turned away, clearly disturbed, looking close to tears. Barbossa's blade came too close, and Jack dove into the water.  
  
As he stood on the shore of the deserted island, watching the Black Pearl disappear into the horizon, only one thought took hold of Jack's mind. Later, the abandoned captain would find time to curse Barbossa to every horrid fate he could imagine, but right then, his thoughts were only for William Turner, and the things that Jack would almost certainly never get to say to him. Please, William. Please. Don't do anything stupid. 


	2. pt 2

The Rumrunners had to be, without a doubt, some of the rowdiest people Jack had ever known. Of course, given their trade, it was no surprise. And it wasn't as though Jack minded. The rum helped to fuel the anger and take away the pain of what Barbossa had done to him.  
  
Jack served the Rumrunners for four months, as payment for his salvation from the deserted island. They invited him to stay, and it was certainly tempting, but revenge was on Jack's mind now, and he really did not want to serve on a ship-he wanted to captain one.   
  
Jack knew the best place to buy information in the Caribbean was the island of Tortuga, and it did not take much convincing to get the Rumrunners to leave him there. After all, Tortuga was a pirates' paradise, with plenty of wine and women all around. So he left the Rumrunners in a tavern and set out to find a source of information.  
  
Although the denizens of Tortuga had always been more than willing to sell information in the past, Jack was surprised to discover that no one wanted to discuss the fate of The Black Pearl, no matter how much he offered. Even the lowest scoundrels who Jack believed would have sold their own mothers for a bit of gold paled at the mere mention of the ship, claiming they knew nothing and shooing Jack away.  
  
After a week of no success, Jack was about ready to give up on Tortuga as a source of information. He was not ready to give up on his mission to reclaim his ship and to get revenge on his mutinous First Mate, but he was starting to think he would have to go elsewhere. He was stumbling through the streets after a night of too much rum (if three even was such a thing), when he practically fell over the unconscious body of Joshamee Gibbs.  
  
Joshamee and Jack went back a long time, and Jack knew that if there was anyone he could convince to tell him whatever rumors were circulating, Gibbs was that person. It took some effort for Jack to drag the much larger man's unconscious dead weight into a room in an inn, but he managed despite having had too much to drink himself, and without causing Gibbs to so much as moan in his sleep. The man stunk to high heaven, but Jack was so drunk himself, he hardly cared.  
  
Gibbs slept well into the following afternoon. When he awoke, his pleasure at seeing his old friend quickly dissipated when Jack began to question him about the Pearl.  
  
"Haven't you heard the stories?" Gibbs asked, glancing around as though he fully expected to be ambushed at any moment.  
  
"No, I haven't," Jack said. "I was rather hoping you might tell them to me yourself."  
  
Gibbs looked leaned in towards Jack, his voice lowered to a whisper. "They say the whole crew is cursed."  
  
Jack smiled. "You sound almost as if you believe that, mate."  
  
Gibbs eyes were wide as saucers. "I do. I know someone who heard one of Barbossa's men talking about it. How they took the forbidden treasure and have been cursed."  
  
Jack sighed. "Here I thought you were finally sober."  
  
"It's true, I tell you!" Gibbs insisted.  
  
"And what is the nature of this curse?" Jack asked mockingly.   
  
Gibbs' voice dropped even lower. "No one knows for sure. But I also know, it is a curse they cannot cure."  
  
Jack sighed. He was beginning to think that maybe Gibbs would not be such a good source of information after all. "And why is that."  
  
"Well, I'll tell you. They say the heathen gods demand the blood of every fool who touched the treasure. Trouble is, Barbossa already killed one of his crew."  
  
Jack's stomach clenched. Suddenly, he was not so amused. "Barbossa killed one of the crew before he learned he needed his blood."  
  
Gibbs nodded eagerly. "They say the sailor remained loyal to you, Jack. They say he sent a piece of the treasure away so they would stay cursed forever. Well, Barbossa was right furious, as you can imagine. So he tied a canon to the sailor's bootstraps and sent him plunging into the sea."  
  
William...  
  
Jack leapt out of his seat and grabbed Gibbs by the collar. "You're lying," he growled furiously, giving the shocked Gibbs a shake. "You're lying to me!"  
  
"Jack, I'm only telling you what I heard!"  
  
"Admit that you're lying, you scabby bastard!"  
  
"Jack! I'm telling you what I heard, no more! Maybe it's not true."  
  
"No," Jack said softly. He released his hold on Gibbs' collar and sunk back into his chair. The sinking feeling in his gut told him it would true. William, beautiful, gentle William, gasping for air as he sunk to the bottom of the sea...  
  
"Jack?"  
  
Jack started. For a moment, he had forgotten Gibbs was there.   
  
"Are you alright, Jack?"  
  
"Yes," Jack said, his voice not at all convincing. "Yes, I am."  
  
"You need a drink," Gibbs said knowingly, and Jack nodded and followed the older man down into the bar where he drank himself into a stupor.   
  
As he dragged himself to his room and collapsed onto the mattress, Jack was distressed to find that the alcohol had not numbed the pain. William Turner's face kept flashing in his mind. It was as though Jack could still feel those fingers against his chest, those lips against his own. And William had stood up for his former captain-had died a horrible death for him. With the sounds of Gibbs' snores drifting over him, Jack buried his face in his mattress and for the first time since he was a lad, Jack Sparrow found himself shedding tears until sleep finally claimed him. 


	3. pt 3

Will Turner stormed down the streets of Port Royal. He thought he may have heard a few people calling to him, here and there, but it didn't matter. He was in no mood to pretend to be pleasant today to people who almost uniformly looked down their noses at him.  
  
  
  
It's as if they think I should be grateful that they lower themselves to speaking to me, he thought, with heavy irritation. Not that he ever acted as though he didn't know his place. How could he forget? It seemed that every time he saw somebody, they were quick to remind him. But he had learned not long after entering Port Royal that it was much better for him to be polite, behave, and keep his mouth shut. That was partly why he did not try to be friendly with anyone as he stalked grumpily back to his "home". He knew that if he spoke to someone, he was likely to lose his temper and get in trouble.   
  
He didn't know why Governor Swan's words had gotten him so upset today.  
  
Will had presented him with a decorative hanging for above the Governor's fireplace, made of two swords crossing each other over the Swan family crest. Will had worked very hard at it-after all, Miss Elizabeth would be seeing it and he wanted to impress her-and he was very proud of his work. The Governor had been polite and kind, as he always had been to Will from the day they pulled him from the sea. He had been pleased with Will's work, and the boy had felt himself flushing with pride at the Governor's praise. And then, the Governor had said it, like he said it every time.  
  
"Please pass my compliments on to your Master."  
  
Master, Will though disdainfully. The only thing he has mastered is how to stay continuously drunk for days at a time.  
  
As far as Will was concerned, his so-called Master Brown was a worthless and disgusting waste. The older man had never really taught Will much of anything beyond the rudimentary basics, leaving Will to figure out the rest on his own. When Will had first arrived at Master Brown's hovel of a home, he had been terrified. Will had been only a child with no friends or family in Port Royal to speak of. He still hadn't found his father, and really hadn't planned on staying in Port Royal for longer than it took to recover from the shipwreck. But as soon as Governor Swan had found out that his young charge was essentially an orphan, alone in the world and so young, he had taken it upon himself to find a place for the boy to live and a trade he could learn that would secure his future. The only craftsman in town who needed an apprentice was the blacksmith-who had scared away his last three with his love of drink and his horrible temper. Will knew that Governor Swan had meant well, and that not being the brightest man in the Caribbean, probably had no idea that he was leaving the boy in the hands of a man who should never have been allowed around children to begin with. But, Will had felt duty-bound to stay. After all, the Governor had saved his life and nursed him back to health. The least Will could do was repay him for his kindness by following the Governor's wishes. Besides, the only clue he had to lead him to his father-the medallion the elder William Turner had sent him-was missing, lost in the shipwreck.  
  
So Will allowed Governor Swan to think he had helped the boy. Will stayed with "Master" Brown, never giving in to the temptation to run away. He learned what he could from Brown on the rare days that the man was not drunk, and figured out the rest for himself. In the beginning, the younger Will had found it almost unbearable. Brown was an exceptionally violent drunk, and had no qualms about taking his temper out on his apprentice. In time, it got a little easier. Brown was not nearly as violent as he used to be-now he normally just sat around in a stupor and frequently just drank himself unconscious. Still, that didn't mean Will didn't hate the man with a vengeance and having to constantly hear his Master getting the praise for Will's hard work was really getting to be too much.  
  
It was no surprise when Will opened the door to find Master Brown passed out on the floor of the workshop, covered in soot and stinking to high heaven, several empty bottles lying by his outstretched hand. Will glared at the man for long moments, before sighing and getting back to work. The Governor had placed another order. He wanted a sword for the soon-to-be-Commodore Norrington-another man who was apparently better than Will was. There was no doubt in his mind that Master Brown would receive the credit for the Commodore's sword too. 


	4. pt 4

Jack had come to Port Royal hoping to steal a ship. He had never expected to find the long lost son of his dearly departed William.  
  
But there was no doubt that was who the young man in the blacksmith's shop was. After all, he had been a bit occupied with trying to escape and the workshop had been rather dark. But in the course of the swordfight, Jack caught a decent look at the face of his opponent; the boy was an exact copy of his father. It was as though the younger man had been plucked right out of Jack's past and placed before him. True, the boy was dressed like a respectable citizen rather than a pirate, but that flawless face and body were virtually identical to his father's. Jack wondered idly what Bootstrap's wife looked like, and if her son had inherited any of her features at all.  
  
During their duel, Jack had only been momentarily distracted by the boy's appearance. In life or death situations, instinct took over, and Jack knew that while the young man might not kill him, Commodore Norrington most certainly would. So he engaged in some admittedly foul play to defeat the boy and in the end lost only because the blacksmith had knocked him out from behind.  
  
Now, sitting in the dirty little cell alone, Jack found himself obsessing about the boy, unable to get him out of his mind. It wasn't as though he could break through solid steal anyway. It gave him time to think on those eyes and the predicament he faced.  
  
Jack knew he could never have shot the boy. Yes, he wanted to save his last shot for Barbossa, but he wouldn't have been able to pull the trigger if he'd had a thousand shots. From a purely philosophical perspective, it seemed it would be a crime to destroy something that lovely if nothing else.  
  
Jack's William had done everything for that boy; he had left his home and become a pirate to give the child a better life. And here Jack had found the boy, reduced to common labor that he knew carried no prestige, slaving away in that dark little hole for a filthy man who clearly loved rum even more than Jack did at his thirstiest.  
  
Jack's eyes narrowed at the thought of the blacksmith. It took a lot of drink to reduce a man to sleeping through all the noise Jack had made freeing himself from his chains. The man had been covered in filth from more than just the blacksmith's fires; the smell had been not unlike an unswept stable. Jack knew drunks; he was frequently a drunk himself. Drunks came in different kinds. Jack was unreserved and giddy when the drink took hold of him. Others reacted differently and in his mind far less endearingly. Some were downright vicious.  
  
If that dirty bastard touched William's son, I'll gut him like the pig he is. Jack meant it too. His William had loved that boy, and whether or not the boy had gotten him caught, he had impressed Jack of his own accord. The boy had been talented in both forging weapons and in wielding them, which was even more impressive given the lack of guidance the child had probably suffered. Despite Jack's disastrous choice for First Mate, he considered himself a good judge of character, and he could see that William's boy was a decent lad with an honorable soul. The fact that he complained about Jack's lack of fairness in a fight showed he had certainly inherited some of William's spirit in addition to his looks.   
  
Jack never really dealt with the full implications of that night he spent with Boostrap, back on the Black Pearl. Could a man really love another man, the way he loved a woman? Was it natural? Was it sane? And since when did Jack care if he was natural or sane about anything? Should he be more disturbed that he had noticed the boy's beauty because the boy was William's son, or because he had found another male beautiful to begin with, never mind that he looked just like his father? Was he just trying to see Bootstrap when he looked at his son?   
  
Jack didn't know the answers to any of these questions. What he did know is that he missed William terribly, especially at night, even if they had only shared one illicit evening. He knew William had remained loyal to his captain, and it had cost him a horrible death.   
  
Perhaps most importantly, he knew that Williams' son was still alive, and that Barbossa would no doubt be looking for the boy. If Barbossa found him, the boy was as good as dead, and Barbossa's penance under the curse would be ended.  
  
Jack would not allow that to happen. He wasn't really ready to examine his motives yet, but he knew he had to keep William's son alive and well, whatever the reason. His conscience chided him for pondering more about his dear William's son than his current predicament, but he couldn't tear his mind away from the unexpected meeting. "Time to get back to it, me lad," he muttered to himself. "How do we get out of this stinking cell?"  
  
Author's notes:  
  
Thanks to my good buddy Cliia for the improved ending. ^_^ You rock.  
  
I also want to thank emeraldwolf for the continued support. I promise to do my best to keep writing and to actually write something where Jack and Will are in the same room during the story, rather than just in memory. 


	5. pt 5

There had been a time when Bill Turner loved the sea. It had seemed so infinite and full of possibility once. But that was a long time ago-before he slaved on the greedy merchant's ship and before he fled to the Black Pearl and became known as "Bootstrap". Once he watched Barbossa force Jack Sparrow to walk the plank, standing in the back of the crowd and cursing his own cowardice for not coming to his captain's aid, Bill had realized the sea was really just another prison. Staring out into the endless horizon lost all the comfort for him it had once held and served to remind him just how very small and unimportant he was in this world.   
  
The eight years he spent at the bottom of the ocean's depths had done nothing to make his opinion of the sea any brighter.  
  
Bill remembered the day Barbossa sent him plummeting into the deep as clear as though it had just happened-the panic, the overwhelming sense of cold, the dragging weight of the cannon and his own wet clothes. He would liked to have imagined that all his thoughts were for the son and wife he would never see again, but in truth all he felt was the fear. He was too terrified to realize that he wasn't drowning until he had sunk so deep that he could barely see. For all the shimmer on the ocean's surface, its bowels were as black as the deepest pit in hell. Had he been able to release his hands from their bounds, he would still not have seen them in front of his own face.  
  
It felt as though he sunk forever. Bill could swear that it was easily days in passing before he reached the ocean floor. Some voice in the back of his mind realized that the curse must have taken hold of him, and that was the only reason why he hadn't drowned, but mostly, he just felt panic. There was an asylum back in London. Bill remembered walking by there, hearing the screams of the mad and raving souls locked inside. He heard once that one of the cruelest tortures the stewards inflicted upon the inmates was locking them away in a dark room with no human contact. Bill now understood the cruelty of such a punishment all too well. Amazing how even though he was not really alive he could still feel the merciless cold and crushing weight of the whole ocean pressing down on him. Worst of all was the blackness. He could hear still, as though the water itself amplified the sound of unknown beasties swimming around him, brushing against him unseen, but he could not see anything but darkness so black that he couldn't find the words to describe it. One of the last thoughts he had before his sanity began to slip was that he had been damned. Everyone knew the lowest circles of hell were reserved for mutineers, and though he had not helped push Jack off the plank and to his end, he had also not done anything to prevent it.  
  
Bill was not sure how long he stayed immobile on the ocean floor. He was quite certain the madness had finally taken him fully, and was actually grateful because it clouded some of the memory of those dark days. It wasn't until something large and scaly slithered between his legs, causing him to jump, that he realized the rope binding him to the cannon had rotted away. He was free, or at least, as free as one could be stranded in the deep. The ludicrousness of the situation would have made him laugh if he still had a voice. He did the only thing he could think to do. He walked. He walked for years, each day just like the last, black and heavy. He had no idea where he was going, but just standing still would drive what tiny bit of sanity remained in his mind. At least, he liked to think he still had some shred of humanity left to him.  
  
After years passed of darkness, the sudden light struck him with a physical blow. A normal man would have found it too dark to see, but to Bill, the light was blinding. He hadn't even noticed the ocean's surface was slanting up, so it must have been gradual. Bill looked up and saw above him the belly of a ship. The pressure of the ocean had lessened, and he found he could swim. He pushed as hard as he could, though the light was growing brighter and his eyes would have watered to the point of blindness if they were still capable. He broke into a patch of moonlight and witnessed the full effect of the curse for the first time. His arms were nothing but bone with a few gray bits of decaying flesh still attached. He could see the shriveled husk in his rib cage that had once been his heart. Bill laughed, hard and loud, and felt the last tenuous grips on his sanity snap. Some sailor in the little ship above heard the noise and came running. A cloud had passed over the moon, hiding Bill's true form, and the shouts of "Man overboard" sounded so strange to ears that had not heard a human voice in an age. When the sailors pulled Bill out of the sea, he killed them without comment, using their own swords against them, unable to die himself. Some small voice in the back of William Turner's head cried to be heard, but the William Turner who had fathered a son and loved a pirate was all but gone. In its place was a madman, who wanted nothing but revenge.  
  
Author's notes:  
  
I guess this is where I start to deviate from the movieverse a bit. ^_^ I want to thank my wonderful reviewers, my sister, and my buddy Cliia for their continued support. I was a nervous wreck when I first posted this story, because I'd never done fanfic before. I'm really enjoying myself. I would also like to take this opportunity to plug my other story, to Buffy the Vampire Slayer, called "Not Such a Good Idea". I know, I'm so cheesy.   
  
Now, to respond to my wonderful reviewers:  
  
Cliia: You are a goddess. Anyone reading this should check out Cliia's Buffy TVS and X-Men movieverse stories. Excellent reads.   
  
Emeraldwolf: Thanks for the continued support. I guess this chapter answers your question about Bootstrap Bill still being alive. I'm surprised they didn't address it in the movie, considering they showed the pirates walking on the ocean's floor and all that in the end.   
  
Alanye: Thanks! I am not sure what a "review history" button is. Maybe I haven't been paying careful enough attention when I'm on the site. I swear I will read your story, but I have this stupid hangup where I don't want to read fanfic in the same genre I'm still writing in, because I'll drive myself nuts wondering if I stole someone else's ideas. I need to know this all came from me. I promise to do my best to update and get the story finished sometime soon. 


	6. pt 6

"Tell me about my father, Jack."  
  
The question caught Jack Sparrow completely off guard-though he realized it probably shouldn't have. He was already feeling his rum, and despite young Turner's claims of propriety, the captain had spied the younger man drinking his share of liquor. From the redness around Will's eyes, it was clear that the boy was not holding it very well.  
  
"I told you, lad," Jack said, his voice admittedly slurred. "He was a scallywag, but a good man. I know you can't seem to reckon the two, but there you have it."  
  
Will stared at him for long moments in silence, as if he could force the eccentric pirate to speak by the force of his will alone. Finally, when it became clear that Jack had no interest in anything other than emptying his stein, Will made as if to rise. Clearly, Jack's assessment about the boy's ability to hold his liquor was correct, as Will all but fell out of his chair and landed on the littered tavern floor in an undignified heap. "I'm alright," the boy muttered. He reached for the table to steady himself, but rather than rising to his feet, Will succeeded only in nearly knocking the table down with him. The only thing that saved Jack's stein and the more precious liquid inside was the pirate's quick reflexes in catching the table before it fell. "Not used to our rum, are we lad?"  
  
"I hate it," Will said as he pushed himself unsteadily to his feet. "I hate liquor and I hate the people who drink it."  
  
Jack would have pointed out that for someone who supposedly hated alcohol, the younger man had certainly swallowed plenty that evening. However, it was clear from the glaze in Will's eyes that the boy was drunk and would probably just get confused. The selfish and logical part of Jack was ready to leave the boy to his own devices-to find his own way to the inn and into bed. But the sentimental part of him that Jack wished would go away insisted that he needed to make sure the boy made it safely. This was Tortuga, after all, and the denizens in the streets would surely see in young William the easiest mark they had ever laid eyes upon.  
  
'And what would Bill say if you let his only son out and alone in this state? Besides, without him, there's no Pearl. Yes. I'll follow him for the Pearl.'  
  
Jack sighed and spared a final mournful glance at the rum remaining in his stein. Well, no one is likely to miss it, are they? Least not as much as me.   
  
Jack left the tavern with one arm around Will and the stein in his other hand. He took Will's too. 'No sense letting it go to waste, is there?' "Come on, lad."  
  
Will fixed Jack with a petulant glare. "I don't need you to guide me like a child." The words would have sounded far more convincing if the boy hadn't bumped into a wall as he said them.  
  
"Oh. Sorry." Jack released his hold on William and the younger man immediately stumbled. Jack couldn't resist a smug smile.  
  
Will stared at the captain through blurry eyes. "Fine. I'll let you help me. But just this once."  
  
"Are you sure? I mean, I know you have your dignity and all. Don't want to interfere where I'm not wanted."  
  
The evil glare Will fixed on him told Jack that just because the boy was drunk didn't mean he wasn't still overly sensitive when it came to his pride. He decided to take pity on the boy and led him the rest of the way back without further teasing, though it cost Jack considerable effort to keep quiet.  
  
Jack all but dumped Will into the straw mattress in the room they were renting. The night was still fairly young and it appeared that young William was sleeping.   
  
'Lad's going to be mighty sick come morning. 'Specially considering we may be boarding my ship tomorrow. Ah, well. No reason for me not to enjoy the comforts of Tortuga, eh?'   
  
"Jack..."  
  
Will's voice was so soft, Jack almost didn't hear it. The boy was staring up at him through heavily lidded eyes. The pirate couldn't be sure, but he could have sworn that in addition to the haze of alcohol in Will's expression, he also saw a note of panic.  
  
"Yes, lad?"  
  
"Where are you going?"  
  
"To church," Jack said smoothly. "I have so many sins to confess. Don't want to pass up this opportunity. I'm so rarely on land, you know."  
  
From the confused looked on Will's face, it was clear that he didn't get the joke.   
  
"Just rest, lad. Believe me, the more you rest now, the better it will be for you tomorrow. You've had way too much rum...if there is such a thing."  
  
"I hate rum," Will insisted, sounding angry. "I hate it."  
  
"Well, of course, you do. That would be why you so stalwartly refused it all evening."  
  
"I am not a drunkard! I'm not...I'm nothing like him."  
  
"I'm sure you're not," Jack said soothingly. "Nothing at all. Now, you just get some rest, lad, and I'm going to go see if I can't find dear Miss Scarlet. Don't want to leave without making up, you know."  
  
William gave no indication of hearing a word Jack said. "I'm nothing like him. He has no talent. I had to learn it all myself."  
  
"Yes, yes, of course," Jack said impatiently. "Don't want to keep Scarlet waiting."  
  
"He's so foul and wretched and..." Will paused for long moments before raising his eyes to Jack's. "...violent."  
  
'The blacksmith,' Jack thought darkly. Will's eyes were the eyes of a frightened and wounded child. 'So, I was right about the bastard. It's a shame he's not here now, or he'd be at the gates of Hell before dawn for touching Boostrap's son.'   
  
"There are men like him everywhere on this cursed island," Will continued, eyes darting around the room as though he expected to find some hulking brute in the shadows, ready to attack at any moment.   
  
"But none of them are here," Jack said. "And I shall lock the door behind me."  
  
William stared at Jack silently for long moments. The younger man looked torn. It wasn't until Jack turned as if to leave that Will finally found his voice. "Please, Jack. Please. Don't leave me alone."  
  
Jack was about to tell Will that he was being foolish-that no one was going to decide to enter this room as it was in a hole of an inn by even Tortuga standards. The many thieves who lived and visited Tortuga were not likely to think there was anything worth stealing in this place, which was part of the reason Jack chose it. Besides, the moon was high in the sky and sunrise was only a few hours away. By now, even the most notorious robber would be either asleep or drowning in rum.  
  
Will's eyes begged him to stay. Jack knew it had cost the younger man a great deal in pride to ask. The boy was clearly terrified, and he looked so much like his long lost father...  
  
'Better stay, then. Best not to spook the boy. Don't want him running off in a fit of terror. How would I get the Pearl then? It's getting late anyway. Oh, yes, far too late. I'd be better off getting some rest.'  
  
Sighing heavily, Jack sat next to the boy. Much of the tension left Will's shoulders and the panic left his eyes, replaced once more by the haze of drunkenness. Looking at Will was like looking at a mirror back through time. A minor change in clothes and it could have been Bill sitting beside the captain. Memories of that one lonely, lovely night with Bootstrap flooded Jack's mind. Will's proximity was overwhelming and Jack found his mind awash with unclean thoughts and unresolved feelings. God, but the boy was beautiful, just like Bill. Would Will's lips feel like Bill's, if Jack allowed himself to taste them? Would Will's skin be just as soft? Would his chest look just as godly beneath that tunic?  
  
Without realizing it, Jack found himself reaching for the laces on Will's vest. The boy was nearly asleep now, his eyes barely open.  
  
"Tell me about my father, Jack."  
  
Though the words had been spoken softly, they hit Jack with the force of a barrel of cold water. He snatched his hand back and regarded the barely conscious boy beside him. "Your father loved you, Will. He loved you more than anything."  
  
A small smile pulled at the corners of Will's mouth. "He did?"  
  
"Yes," Jack said quietly, as much to remind himself as to assure the boy. "He did."  
  
The tiny smile on Will's face widened so slightly, it was almost imperceptible. He sighed, sounding content, and moments later, Jack heard the boy's breath take on the steady, even quality sleep.  
  
'So lovely. So beautiful. Like the fairest angel in Heaven... Just like his father. Just like my Bill.'  
  
Jack rose quickly from the bed, grateful that Will had imbibed too much to be disturbed by the sudden movement. This wouldn't do. Not at all. It was disturbing enough to have these stirrings for the elder William Turner, but to have them for the younger, William's beloved son for whom he had sacrificed everything... That was not acceptable.  
  
'I need more rum.'  
  
Jack hurried out of the inn and into the streets of Tortuga. He needed to either clear his mind, or fog it beyond the capacity for intelligent thought. Otherwise, he was going to drive himself even more insane. The sight of the busty redhead walking his way had never been more welcome. "Scarlet!" he called enthusiastically, planting a kiss on her painted lips before she could protest. "Let's find ourselves a bed shall we?"  
  
:Author's Notes:  
  
I am so sorry it took me so long to update. Work has been insane. That's my only excuse.  
  
Now, to respond to feedback:  
  
Culloden: *blushes* Thank you very much. It's good to know that English minor wasn't entirely worthless. ^_^  
  
Leann: Thank you, ma'am. I'll try and do better with updating in the future. ^_^  
  
Emeraldwolf: *blushes mightily* You are going to make my head too big to fit in my cubicle pretty soon. ^_^ Thanks for the continued support. And maybe in the sequel they will address the fact that being tossed into the sea would not have killed poor Bootstrap.  
  
Alanye: Oh! So that's what the "review history button is". Learn something every day. And thanks for your continued support and I still promise to read yours when I finally finish this monster. 


	7. pt 7

Waking up with his face pressed between Scarlett's ample breasts was not the most pleasant experience Jack had ever savored. Funny how much less appealing she looked this morning with her makeup smeared and drool on her lips. Of course, it didn't help that he was so damnably sober now either.  
  
'Ah well. Never too early for rum, I say.'  
  
Jack extricated himself from Scarlett's damp embrace and left the rather pungent stable they had shared the prior evening. Strange how now that another Turner was in Jack's life, the pleasures of last evening left him feeling hollow and unsatisfied.  
  
'The love that dare not speak its name.'  
  
Jack bought himself a bottle of rum and sucked at it greedily as he made his way back to the inn where he had left young Will the previous evening.   
  
'You know, the way I'm gulping on this bottle could almost be symbolic... No, lad. No. Mustn't think that way.'  
  
Still, there was no denying that thinking of the admittedly lovely Will Turner was causing Jack to feel things he hadn't felt since he kissed Bootstrap those many sleepless nights ago. However, things were different now, and no matter how much Jack wanted to recapture those moments, he wasn't on a ship full of drunken men without feminine companionship for months at a time. And though he'd love to cast young William in the role, young William was not Bootstrap. Bootstrap was one of the best men Jack knew and a good pirate as well. Young William, on the other hand, was merely on his way to being a good man, and, at least for now, he was no pirate.   
  
'Well on his way to becoming one, I'd wager.'  
  
Having been on a ship full of drunken men with no womanly company available for months, Jack knew there had been indiscretions, though surely none of the men involved would admit it. He would have bet money that Pintel and Ragetti's relationship extended beyond merely looking after Ragetti's wooden eye. Jack supposed The Good Book probably spoke against such acts, but then again, he was a pirate. Certainly he had committed far greater crimes than daring to relish either Turner's obvious charms? And really, what did he care what God said anyway? When was the last time God did Jack Sparrow a favor?  
  
'So there you have it then. No need to worry over your feelings for poor Bill...But what of young William?'  
  
Whether or not Jack wanted to admit it, he knew his connection with Bootstrap had been more than physical. Hell, it had barely even been physical at all-compared to his many meetings with women of questionable reputations, that one night with Bill had been almost...innocent. Jack cared for Bill, cared for him as he cared for no other person walking this cursed earth. Thinking of Bill's death still cut Jack to the core, a wound that would never fully heal despite the brevity of their silent dalliance.   
  
William looked just like his father. But that was where the relationship ended.  
  
'The father is not the son. The father is gone. Lost to me forever in the depths of the sea.'  
  
Which brought up the whole reason they were in Tortuga in the first place-revenge on Barbossa and recovery of the Pearl. He might not ever be able to gaze upon his Bootstrap again, but he would not allow the traitor to disgrace the one place they loved. Barbossa would get what was coming to him, not just for leaving Jack on that gods forsaken island and stealing his ship and crew, but also for murdering the one person in the world who truly mattered.  
  
'Right. Time to wake young William.'  
  
Jack quickly mounted the stairs of the inn and entered the room he and Will were to have shared last night, had Jack not otherwise occupied himself. Will Turner was still sleeping, and despite the pallid tone of the boy's skin, Jack found himself overtaken once more by the lad's splendor. Surely, no angel in heaven could compare to the loveliness of William Turner. Or rather, no angel, save the one Jack had already lost.  
  
It was enough to make Jack want to forget all the rationalizing he had done since waking up choking on Scarlett's bosom that morning. 'Really...what Bill doesn't know won't hurt him, will it?'  
  
Will shifted in his sleep, a soft moan escaping his lips. Jack leaned closer to the boy as Will whispered in his sleep.  
  
"Elizabeth..." Will said, clearly still lost in pleasant dreams.  
  
Jack kicked Will in the ribs and the younger man jolted into wakefulness. "Time to get up lad."  
  
Will glared at Jack balefully, rubbing his side. "What did you do that for?" he demanded.  
  
"Come now, lad. I didn't kick you that hard." Jack turned his back on the boy. "Or don't you want to save your pretty strumpet?"  
  
"Don't ever speak of Miss Elizabeth that way," Will began, but Jack cut him off before he could finish.  
  
"Well, then. I'm going down to the Common Room. Mr. Gibbs will be here shortly. Don't keep us waiting, lad. Every moment you wait, the Pearl slips further away."  
  
And with those words, Jack walked out of the room, leaving a startled and deeply confused Will staring after him.  
  
:Author's Notes:  
  
I again apologize for taking so long to update, and I am well aware that this is not the best chapter I've ever written. I sort of felt stuck in a rut and this was the best way I could think to get Jack and Will off the island so we can have them meet Bootstrap next chapter. As always, Cliia has been a godsend. The best beta ever!  
  
And to plug myself-I also made a POTC music video that you can download on my website at www.geocities.com/heraldtalia2002 Please check it out!  
  
Now to respond to my oh so wonderful reviewers!   
  
Wyall Jared: *blush* Thanks! I'm glad you enjoyed it!  
  
nocturnium13: I get what you're saying about Bill's "death"-I mean, they showed the pirates raiding Norrington's ship by walking along the ocean floor for god's sake! Thanks for the compliment. ^_^  
  
Elizabeth: Thanks! You guys are really making my head swell.  
  
Emeraldwolf: You've been supporting me since the first chapter and I really appreciate that. Thanks for understanding about the wait. My stupid job keeps interfering with my fun!  
  
Lyowyn: Thank you, thank you, thank you! Hey-it took a while but I did manage to update. I will hopefully have another chapter soon.  
  
Jacklover: Thanks for the compliment! I guess this update wasn't as soon as you had hoped.  
  
Leann: Well, I guess you can see that I'm trying to take the angle that Jack really loved Bill and is using Will to fill the void Bill left behind. If your brother is anything like Will Turner, he must be adorable. ^_~ 


	8. pt 8

If Will didn't know better, he could have sworn that Jack was avoiding him.  
  
It was really rather blatantly obvious. The ship was one of the smallest Norrington had commanded-that was why Jack had chosen to steal it, after all-and it wasn't as though the pirate could just waltz off the ship and onto land. It had to be more than mere coincidence that every time Will sought Jack out, Jack had just left, was entirely too busy, or had otherwise disappeared in some way or another. And for those brief moments Will managed to be in Jack's presence, the pirate was always giving the younger man the strangest looks that left the boy feeling distinctly uncomfortable without there being an explanation for it that the younger man could see.   
  
Will found it quite maddening. Miss Elizabeth's life was on the line and Will did not break Jack out of prison and destroy his reputation in Port Royal only to be kept in the dark.  
  
Feeling very mistreated and full of righteous anger, Will burst out of the sleeping quarters and onto the deck. 'He shall not avoid me this time! I don't care if I have to search every inch of this ship!'   
  
Jack was not standing at the wheel as expected; rather, he and most of the rest of the crew were gathered at the side of the deck staring out to sea. Face hardening with determination, Will stalked over to the captain. "Jack," he snapped. "I must speak with you. Now."  
  
Will's voice cut through the collective silence of the rest of the crew like a cleaver. Jack didn't pay the blacksmith any mind at all, although a few of the other crewmembers looked at him as though he had committed blasphemy and Anna Maria shushed him harshly. Will was about to retort when a glance from the corner of his eye revealed the reason for the silence.  
  
There was another ship, even smaller than the one Jack now commanded, off the port bough. By all appearances, the ship was whole and normal, save the minor detail of no visible crew. The night was exceptionally still, dark, and silent except for the gentle lapping of the sea against the ship's sides. Will was not a superstitious person, but the sight of the seemingly abandoned ship left him with chills, though he could not quite fathom why.  
  
"It's a ghost ship, Captain," Gibbs was saying. Unlike Will, the old sailor seemed to believe in every superstition ever concocted. "We should raise anchor and set sail straight away, get away from the cursed thing."  
  
Will could not read the emotion on Jack's face. The pirate captain was silent for several long moments, gazing out at the little ship intensely. "No," he said finally, his voice so soft that it seemed as if he were speaking mostly to his own self. "No. We shall board her."  
  
Gibbs was rambling on about bad luck, but Jack was paying him no mind and neither did Will. Will Turner felt drawn to that ship. He was reminded of the story of Odysseus and the sirens who lured wayward sailors to crash into cliffs with the power of their song. There was nothing but silence tonight, but still the blacksmith felt the same irresistible pull that the doomed sailors must have felt. He could only hope he would not meet the same tragic end. Jack was absently making some excuse about raiding the ship for supplies, but Will knew that both he and the captain were going to board the strange vessel with or without the crew's consent.  
  
Jack put Anna Maria in charge of organizing a boarding party. Will could hardly believe his good fortune. Given the captain's avoidance of him these many weeks, Will could only assume Jack would not have allowed the younger man on the mission. Anna Maria would have no such hesitation.  
  
'Lucky for me I'm not superstitious like Gibbs,' Will thought, as he watched the abandoned ship bob silently in the pale starlight. 'Or I would think this stroke of fortune was entirely too convenient.'  
  
Jack was so wrapped up in his own thoughts that he did not even notice Will was on the dingy until they were already halfway to their destination. Will could see that the pirate was plainly not pleased to see the blacksmith there, but he kept his peace. For his part, Will simply glared at Jack with willful defiance. Jack opened his mouth as if to speak, but the dingy bumped up against the ghost ship and the captain had more important things to worry about.  
  
Will was one of the last to climb up the rope ladder to board. He had nearly reached the deck when Gibbs' voice wafted down to his ears.  
  
"Saints be praised, Cap'n," Gibbs was saying, sounding as frightened as Will had ever heard him. "I told you this ship was cursed."  
  
When Will finally reached the deck, he was nearly inclined to agree.  
  
Half a dozen men lay dead beneath the moonlight, their bodies sliced to ribbons and leaving the deck awash with blood. Bile rose in Will's throat. He had never seen a dead body before, much less a viciously slaughtered one. He squeezed his eyes shut, but the image replayed itself on his eyelids-the dead men, mouths wide and gaping, shredded and bloody, their insides spilled on the damp wood. Will suddenly became aware of the stench, and the nausea overtook him. Stumbling, slipping in the blood, he barely made it to the side in time.  
  
"Cap'n!" Gibbs was insisting. "Jack! The devil has been here. We should leave."  
  
His stomach now empty, Will managed to gain enough control of wobbly legs to stand and look at the pirate captain. Jack's face was still blank as he surveyed the carnage, but after several moments, he nodded. "Yes," he said quietly, though he sounded less than certain. "There is nothing for us here."  
  
The majority of the boarding party wasted no time in scurrying back down to the boarding boat. It was all Will could do to remain standing upright, even while supporting himself on the railing. Even so, the pull of this dreadful place would not lessen its hold on him. Will knew he should be running for the dingy, trying to leave the carnage behind him, steady legs or no. But even though his logical mind wanted to flee as quickly as possible, some irrational piece of him insisted that it was not yet time to go.  
  
"You shouldn't have come, lad," Jack said, his voice sympathetic. He was the only one besides Will who had stayed behind.  
  
It was the first time in weeks that Jack had really looked at him. Will felt suddenly ashamed for losing his composure, and unexpectedly touched that the pirate captain-whose face was still wearing a strange expression Will could not fathom-had chosen to personally stay behind. Will opened his mouth to try and salvage some of his dignity, when a shrill creaking sound cut through the night. Jack was instantly alert and Will felt his hands tremble on the railing. Their eyes locked. They were not alone.  
  
Gibbs' shouts drifted up to them from the boarding boat below, but both Jack and Will ignored him. Something was moving, up the stairs from below deck, coming slowly toward them. And again, though the clearly sensible thing to do would be to flee to the dingy below, neither man moved for the ladder. Their eyes remained locked for a long moment where they both understood that, for whatever strange reason, neither of them would leave until they discovered who else was on this eerie ship. The shuffling came closer, and Jack had his sword in his hand instantly. Will followed suit, even though the blacksmith almost fell upon letting the railing go.   
  
The doors to the quarters below deck opened and something emerged, shuffling slowly up the stairs, moving like no man Will had ever seen. Will gasped. The thing that emerged into the moonlight was like a creature from the blacksmith's worst nightmares-a walking skeleton covered in bits of decaying flesh and tattered clothing, covered in the blood of the sailors it had most definitely slain. Will's breath hitched in his throat and his pulse soared with panic. How could such a thing exist? Had they somehow managed to sail into hell itself? Why on earth had he volunteered to come here and why hadn't he left when he first caught sight of the bodies of the dead littering the deck?  
  
Will looked at Jack, feeling helpless himself and hoping against all reason that the pirate would know what to do. He would never in his worst fears have predicted that Jack would drop his sword from nerveless fingers, his arm falling to his side. Jack's voice was strangled with too many emotions for Will's terrified mind to decipher. Captain Sparrow's face was the very picture of horror, though his eyes flashed with recognition.  
  
"Bill?" Jack whispered.   
  
And suddenly the creature found its speed to come stalking purposefully toward them and death seemed inevitable.  
  
::Author's notes::  
  
Sorry it took so long. I know, you guys who have been with me from the beginning are probably so sick of hearing that. *ducks*  
  
althea & lila: Hey, thanks for the kind words! I hope your fingernails have grown back. ^_~  
  
emeraldwolf: Ack! Work and school! I've graduated but I remember how crappy that was. No free time ever! Anyway, thanks for your continued support.   
  
Cherrii: Thanks! As anyone who has been reading this from my first posting months ago can tell you, I always take forever to update. So sorry about that.   
  
Wyall Jared: Send some of that rum this way! Thanks for the compliment on that line-especially since I wasn't sure about it when I first wrote it. 


	9. pt 9

Jack didn't know what it was that sparked the recognition in his mind. Was it a   
  
flash of fabric, tattered now, but still so familiar? Or maybe it was something in the way   
  
the creature moved; some nuance in the thing's shambling steps that reverberated in   
  
Jack's memory? Whatever it was, Jack recognized William "Bootstrap" Turner the   
  
moment his skeletal form emerged into the moonlight.   
  
Jack had witnessed the effect of the curse back in Port Royal, but it had never   
  
occurred to him that it might have affected Bill as well. Still, it made sense. Skeletons   
  
could not drown, did not need to eat, or breathe, or maintain warmth. Plunging to the   
  
floor of the sea meant certain death for a normal man, but a cursed one would survive.  
  
It was hard to decide how to feel. Should Jack be happy that his long-lost   
  
William lived? Or, should he be horrified that the once gentle Bill Turner had suffered   
  
unimaginable horrors to such a degree that, judging by the mutilated bodies on the deck,   
  
the man had lost his mind?  
  
It was too much to process, and Jack was so overwhelmed by it all that he didn't   
  
notice he had dropped his sword until he heard it clattering on the deck. "Bill?" he   
  
whispered softly, gazing in horror at the thing Bill had become.  
  
Then suddenly, the poor creature was rushing toward them and instinct took over.   
  
Jack retrieved his sword just in time to parry a blow from his attacker. He could hear the   
  
younger Turner in the background, but was too focused on defending himself to pay the   
  
boy much mind. Bootstrap's attacks were powerful and frantic, but also mindless and   
  
random. That was Jack's only advantage. It followed that if skeletons did not need to   
  
breathe, eat, sleep, or perform any of the functions human bodies required, they also   
  
could not be knocked unconscious. The only option was to bind it.  
  
_'How fortunate for me that Bootstrap seems to be focusing all of his attention on   
  
my person and not on his son_,_' _Jack thought with a bit of sarcasm.  
  
"Get some rope," Jack yelled, hoping the younger Turner would do as he asked.   
  
It was all Jack could do to repel Bill's frantic attacks. The captain was relieved when,   
  
moments later, Will returned from wherever he had gone with a length of blood-soaked   
  
rope in his hands.  
  
_'Very good. Now, how to disable a creature that may not even feel pain?_'  
  
The answer came as Jack's eyes fell upon a barrel with a green fish painted on the   
  
side. Jack backed towards the barrel, not surprised when the raging creature followed.   
  
Upon reaching it, the captain kicked the heavy barrel over and the deck was soon   
  
swarming in slippery fish. Bill stumbled and went down and Jack jumped on top of him.  
  
"The rope, Will. NOW!"  
  
Bill was tearing into Jack with his bare hands, but the pirate managed to hold the   
  
creature down long enough to secure it with the rope. Bill raged against the bindings, his   
  
howls piercing the night.  
  
_'It's not going to be fun getting him to the ship.'  
_  
"Okay, lad," Jack said, turning to address the younger Turner. "Those ropes   
  
won't hold him for long. We have to get him into the dingy and to our brig and pray to   
  
god the brig holds him."  
  
But Will wasn't moving. The boy's eyes were wide with fear and horror, as he   
  
stared past the pirate to the creature they had just captured. "Jack…" he whispered   
  
softly, voice trembling.  
  
"I know, lad," Jack said impatiently. "Yes, it's very frightening. There, there and   
  
all that. Now, we don't have the time…."  
  
Will shook his head, backing away from them both. "No."  
  
Jack was going beyond frustration straight to anger. "William!"  
  
Still, the boy did not move. He only continued to shake his head, eyes wide, face   
  
pale.  
  
_ 'No help at all, is he?'  
_  
Jack turned back around to face his captive, and it was suddenly apparent why   
  
young Tuner had been so upset. A cloud had passed over the moon, and Bill no longer   
  
looked like a creature from one's worst nightmares. No, Jack realized with an almost   
  
physical sensation of pain, the creature now looked like William "Bootstrap" Turner—  
  
pale, bloody, panting, eyes seething with psychosis, but a flesh and blood man who was   
  
the spitting image for his son.  
  
The resemblance was even stronger than Jack remembered. They could have   
  
been twins. For the first time, it occurred to Jack that Will never really knew what   
  
happened to his father. It must be quite a shock.  
  
_ 'Certainly was a shock to me.'  
_  
"It's okay lad," Jack said, much more kindly. "There will be time later, I promise.   
  
I shall explain everything to you…least, everything I know. But right now, I need you to   
  
help me move him back to our ship.  
  
Will nodded slowly, and took a few trembling steps forward to come to the   
  
captain's aid. "That's a good lad," Jack said with a smile that was completely forced.  
  
_'Bill—no William is alive. He's alive. Or at least, he's not completely dead.'_ It   
  
was almost too much to comprehend, and Jack was being assaulted by so many different   
  
feelings, it was more than he could bear. Was there anything left of William in this   
  
monster—any spark that could be reached to bring Bootstrap back from madness? Jack   
  
didn't know what Bill had suffered, but it must have been pure torture to make someone   
  
so gentle into such a ruthless killer. Was it even reasonable to hope that someone could   
  
survive such torment and be whole?   
  
And one nagging thought would not leave the captain's mind. _'Whatever he   
  
suffered, my poor beautiful William…he suffered it because he defended me.'_

_  
_  
::Author's notes::  
  
It seems like I say this with every chapter, but I am terribly sorry it took so long for me to   
  
update. Thanks to all of you who have kept on reading and especially to those of you   
  
who give me feedback. Some day I'll finish this damned thing! I swear!  
  
Sergio: ACK! I hope I got this up soon enough to avoid your heart attack…not that I   
  
suspect this ending is much better. ducks  
  
Lyowyn: Sorry for the agony. Yeah, I knew the ending was pretty obvious at the last   
  
chapter, but I couldn't think of any other way to do it.   
  
Brightbear: Sorry about the nails! I hope you still have some left.  
  
Emeraldwolf: As always, you are such a patient saint and so encouraging. Thanks again!  
  
Thunderlover: Thanks! You know, I always tend to see slash everywhere, so Bill and   
  
Jack having a history was the first conclusion my mind jumped too.  
  
Seaspray: You burned the rum! Don't let Jack find out about that.   
  
Troublegirl: That is so flattering! Thank you! I hope it's still on your list after all this   
  
time.  
  
Bittersweet46: blushes Many thanks! Are there stories where Bill is chipper? I guess   
  
since I love angst, it never would have occurred to me to write it that way. Besides, I   
  
know I'd lose my mind at the bottom of the ocean.  
  
Wyall Jared: Thank you muchly. And see, I did continue…it just took a while.


	10. pt 10

_'How can this be? That can't be him.'_  
  
Watching Jack load the frightening and pathetic being onto the dingy, Will felt suddenly as though he were someone else. It was as though he and Jack and the creature were characters in some play, and he was a detached member of the audience. Yes, his life had taken many turns that seemed impossible even to himself, never mind that he had lived through them. But nothing this bizarre, nothing this horrifying, could happen. Not in his life; not even in his darkest nightmares...until today.  
  
The clouds had passed back over the moon, and the thing no longer wore the face that stared back at Will every time he looked in a mirror. Strange how the creature's transformation from man to monster was actually a blessing for the younger Turner. It had wounded Jack fairly severely, and between that and it's perpetual struggling, it took longer than Will or Jack would have liked to get it down to the dingy, a difficult situation made worse by the fact that Will still could not bring himself to look at the creature, much less touch it. The men who were already waiting for their captain's return were understandably unprepared to meet their new passenger, and their reactions ranged from abject terror to simple anger.  
  
Gibbs was the loudest of the lot, his face red and sweating, hands gesturing wildly. "We can't bring that with us, Cap'n," he was saying, as the skeletal creature continued to rage against its bonds. "Surely this thing is what killed those poor souls on the deck, and who knows if the brig can hold such a devilish creature." The rest of the crew nodded agreement, bolstering Gibbs' courage. "Even if steel bars can hold that beast, it would be terrible bad luck to have it on board. We should send it down to Davey Jones' locker."  
  
Jack had been standing silently at the head of the dingy, standing between Bootstrap and the rest of the raiding party in what Will imagined was an almost protective fashion. To all appearances, the captain was emotionless as Gibbs spoke, but upon hearing that last sentence, his movement was swift. His sword flashed in the moonlight, gleaming at Gibbs' throat, pressed against the tender flesh hard enough that Will could have sworn he saw a drop or two of blood. "Listen to me, you dogs," Jack ground out, his voice lower and more menacing than Will would have supposed it could have become. "I say he comes back to our ship with us. There will be no more talk of tossing him to the sea. Anyone who so much as looks at him threateningly will find himself intimately acquainted with my sword. Am I understood?"  
  
For a moment, it seemed as though Gibbs might argue. But pressed against the tip of Jack's sword found the persuasion of self-preservation won out over bravery. "Aye, Cap'n," he said finally. The crew all mumbled their unhappy agreement.  
  
The crew was so subdued; it might have been a quiet ride back to the ship, if not for the creature's hideous wailing. The sounds that came from the thing's throat as they led it to the brig gave Will gooseflesh. He could not get away from it quickly enough and ignored Jack's pointed looks when they re-boarded. Clearly, the pirate again wanted Will's help, but Will was having none of that. He could not escape the thing quickly enough, and he fled for the sleeping quarters without meeting Jack's eyes, leaving the captain to get the monster down to the brig on his own.  
  
_'Jack wanted it here. Jack can take care of it. I'll have no part of it. None.'_  
  
It wasn't until Will had tossed himself onto his bunk that he realized he was crying. Jack insisted on calling it "he", had protected it when Gibbs and the others wanted to be rid of it, and would no doubt visit a horrible vengeance on anyone who tried to dispose of the beast against Jack's orders.  
  
_ 'That thing...it can't be. It couldn't be...'_  
  
But the resemblance was undeniable. And if it was anyone else, why would Jack insist on protecting it, risking yet another mutiny, not to mention bodily injury, in doing so?  
  
William had long dreamed of finding his long lost father. He had been too young when William Senior left, and had no memories of his own to cling to. But his mother had remembered her dearly missed husband, had whispered stories about William Turner's bravery to their son as she put him to sleep. She told him that Father had left only because he was trying to improve their lot in life, and that it was the hardest and most selfless thing Father had ever done. She assured him that they were both in Father's thoughts every waking moment, and so Will must not feel abandoned. Unlike many of the children in the streets of London, Will never doubted that his absent father's leaving was an act of love.  
  
After Mother died, Will had no one left to cling to but a memory made completely by his imagination. He would find his father, and his father would take care of him and he would no longer be alone in the world. That changed with the attack on his vessel and his years of servitude in Port Royal. How many times, while weathering his blacksmith Master's temper, had he fantasized that his father would come. William would march into the filthy shop, outraged that anyone dared treat his beloved child so horribly. Master Brown would cower and plead for forgiveness, but would not escape justice as William Turner's hands. Then they would leave that place, never to return.  
  
_ 'Such childish fantasies. So foolish.'  
_  
Once Will had entered into adulthood, he gave up hopes of ever finding his missing father, figuring that his father was most likely dead. Even if he weren't, it was an enormous world and the elder William would have difficulty finding his son even if he were trying, which the younger Turner was beginning to doubt. After all, so far as William knew, his wife and son remained in London. Why would he come to the Caribbean to find them?  
  
The walls of the brig did little to shield the creature's screams. The brig was directly below the sleeping quarters, and Will imagined the thing's screams to be the shrieking of demons and the damned rising up from the bowels of Hell. They pierced Will to the bone like a cold wind. He covered his head with his lumpy pillow, but that did little to drown out that terrible noise.  
  
_ 'My father is not dead.'  
_  
Never would Will have imagined that such a thought would bring him such horror.  
  
_ 'My father is...alive?'_  
  
The pain and confusion swarmed Will in a never-ending cycle. It would most assuredly be a sleepless night. If this was reality, Will did not want to know what his new nightmares held.  
  
::Response to comments::  
  
bittersweet46: Thanks! And thanks for keeping on reading.  
  
emeraldwolf: You've always been patient, but I know that when I'm reading a fanfic and the author takes forever to update, I can't stand the wait. I know, I'm such a hypocrite! Thanks again for all of your support. 


	11. pt 11

::Author's notes:: I guess it goes without saying that I, yet again, took longer than intended to update this story. I've been having real writer's block on it and I really don't think this is the best chapter I've written. Sorry about that. In any case, I am hoping this will help me move on and finally get this monster completed before we reach the next century. :) Thanks as always for your support.::

Jack stared at the cabin's ceiling, as he had for so many sleepless nights since they had brought Bill back to the Pearl and locked him shrieking in the brig. Even now, he could hear poor Bootstrap's inhuman cries rising from beneath him. Jack had never considered himself a sensitive or sentimental man, so it was with considerable embarrassment that he found himself often fighting tears to hear it every night and every day.

Jack had tried repeatedly to reach William. Certain that he could find some spark of his former companion hidden in the pathetic creature in the brig below, the pirate captain had to admit he had been less focused on Barbossa and recapturing The Pearl. Jack spent hours every day trying to break through the madness and to find some glimmer of the William Turner he had known. So far, it had been to no avail. Bootstrap, or rather, what was left of him, most often reacted to Jack's presence by shrieking even more loudly and throwing himself at the bars. Sometimes, Bill didn't even respond to Jack's presence at all, but simply sat there staring at nothing, lost in his own insanity.

As if the situation weren't difficult enough already, the new "guest" was also having an understandable affect on the rest of the crew. Anna Maria made her displeasure at having "that demon" on board loudly known at every opportunity. Always a superstitious man, Gibbs had taken to posting "talismans" all over the ship and his person to protect himself from harm. No one had dared to advocate forcing Bill to walk the plank again after Jack had nearly slit Gibbs' throat for the suggestion, but Jack was sure it was a topic of whispered discussion when he was not around.

_'To be honest, lad, can you really blame them? He's nothing to them but a monster.'_

Without warning, Bill's shrieking and wailing reached a fever pitch, and Jack rolled onto his side, pulling his soggy pillow over his head. _'William, dear William...is there anything of you left in there? Is there anything at all? You shouldn't have defended me, lad. Why did you always have to be such an idealistic fool?'_

"Jack."

Jack recognized the hollow voice as belonging to the younger Will Turner. Tossing the pillow off his head, Jack regarded Will with sympathetic eyes. Having his father on board in such a state was clearly taking a heavy toll on the younger man, as evidenced by his pale skin and hollow eyes. The poor boy looked thoroughly exhausted.

_'I'd wager nobody has been getting a good night's rest with all the ruckus and Bill's carrying on. And young Will... Probably hasn't had a stitch of sleep.'_ "What is it lad?"

"The crew and I have been talking. About...the situation."

Jack sat up straighter, eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Have you, now?" he said, tone guarded and carefully neutral.

Will's eyes scanned the room, resting anywhere but on his captain's face. He was silent for long moments, clearly uncertain about what he wanted to say. After several moments of this, the boy steeled himself with a visible effort and stared Jack defiantly right in the eyes. "We believe you've become distracted from the mission. We believe that...the creature...has become too much of a diversion for you and that you've forgotten why we're all here."

"Really?" Jack's voice was colder than the Arctic.

"Yes, really." Will seemed to have found his courage, and was becoming bolder by the moment. "The crew was promised this ship as their own once you find Barbossa and reclaim The Black Pearl. And the only reason I freed you from that cell to begin with was to rescue Miss Elizabeth. I shall not allow your unfounded obsession with that thing in the brig to place her life in further danger."

"And have we not continued in our course," Jack countered, pushing himself off the bunk and towering rising to his feet. "Have Gibbs and Anna Maria not been maintaining our pursuit."

"Yes," Will admitted, refusing to back down. "But the fact remains that you are supposed to be the captain of this ship, and only you know how Barbossa's mind works and what he may be planning and how to precisely read the compass with no needle. If anything happens to Miss Elizabeth because of your dallying, I will gut you myself!"

Jack couldn't help but laugh. "Are you threatening me, child? That's rather funny."

Will looked terribly affronted. When he spoke, it was through gritted teeth. "You should have left that thing to rot on that ship, or better yet, sent it overboard, back to the depths of Hell where it belongs."

Jack grabbed Will roughly by the arms and slammed him against the wall hard enough to set the younger man's teeth rattling. "You listen to me, boy," he hissed. "That man has suffered more than you or I can ever imagine, that I am sure of. Furthermore, he suffered said fate for coming to my defense, so I will not abandon him. It should be further noted that he was on the stinking Pearl in the first place because of you. He didn't even really want to be a sailor. He left London and his pretty wife behind because he wanted more for his boy. He told me himself the night we kissed. He was pining for you and your mother, but he gave it all up to give you a better life, and frankly I hardly think you were worth the sacrifice. That man is your _father_, and if you speak ill of him again, it will be you who I shall send to Davey Jones' locker!"

Will's eyes widened at the assault and it was all he could do to stare back at the pirate. "What? Kissed? What?" he stuttered, rather unintelligently.

_'Huh. Don't know why I had to go and let that bit of information slip.' _

"I know this is hard for you lad," Jack said, much more gently, loosening his grip on the boy. "But it's true. Your father loved you with everything he had. You owned his heart...and I don't believe you appreciate what a gift that was, especially to those of us who wished it belonged to us."

Will swallowed and looked about to reply when Gibbs burst through the door so hard, the top hinge broke. "Cap'n! It's gone! Anna Maria went down to the brig to check on it and it was nowhere to be found."

Jack and Will stared at the terrified crewman, then back at each other, before they both rushed out of the door and up to the deck. _'Ah, Bill,' _Jack thought, with a sinking feeling in his gut. _'What have you done now?'_

::Feedback response::

Galadryal: Thanks! Hey, I am happy for any feedback at all, so please don't worry about how "short" it is.

Lyowyn: Sorry you didn't like the last chapter. I really just don't see how Bill could have gone through what he went through without going a little insane and I don't think he could just shrug it off...but I am trying for a happy ending if that helps.

Bluekrystal1: blushing Thanks! Yeah--I mean, I know if I spent years at the bottom of the sea I'd probably be a bit psychotic, so I figured Bill would probably be too. I'm glad you liked it.

emeraldwolf: laughs Well, even though I love my angst and suffering--sick person that I am--I am a strong believer in happy endings. I will see what I can do for poor Bill and Jack's happiness. You rock, by the way. :)

bittersweet46: Thanks for the feedback! I am addicted to angst, so naturally I have to write it into my fics. And I really am gonna try to save Bill--but only if I can find a way to do it without it feeling forced.


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